Choices
by WhatHaveWeDone
Summary: John is once again in a pickle! I subscribe to the view slightly more prevalent in the original series that no-one knows the identity of IR, btw.
1. Chapter 1

'The Grand Canyon Super Train takes you through some of the most amazing scenery in the country in comfort and in style. State of the art technology gives you an experience like none other melding the natural one with an ultra-modern...'

The brochure waffled on but John wasn't really reading it, he had of course gathered all the information he needed before he even stepped on the train (Which didn't actually go anywhere near the protected Grand Canyon, instead looping through and around several nearby canyons. That were grand.) Most of patrons would be focused on the little luxuries – the comfortable seats, custom drink service and the two truly unique viewing cars – perspex only so that there was as little as possible between you and the great out doors. The four other couches were more of a standard train carriage but with leather seats, inlaid wood panels and calming piped music: a tourist's dream.

That wasn't what interested John though – he was here to keep an eye on the train's AI driver. It ran multiple layers of algorithm to not only make the ride as smooth as possible but to navigate the complex sequences of track to make the most of the scenery and give the passengers the best views. _That _was something much more complex than most AI's were capable of due to the subjective nature of 'the best views', so they had turned to someone who knew more than most about AI's. OK, so they didn't know that John Tracy was the programmer and partner of the most sophisticated AI on the planet, who ran International Rescue's monitoring and communications satellite saving hundreds of lives. But they did know that John Tracy had written some of the most respected academic papers on the subject of AI integration and he had been flattered that the Grand Canyon Super Train Company wanted him to give his professional opinion on it's performance.

He had leaped at the chance to get out the office – as much as he loved his job there wasn't much of an opportunity to see the world with his own eyes, hidden as he was behind scanners and cameras and readouts. He didn't regret the choices that led him to life in a bubble, but he did regret some of the consequences.

"I could do better you know" chirped a light yet disapproving voice in his ear.

"I know EOS" John muttered, leaning so it didn't look too strange that he was talking to himself. "You could do better at most things, but isn't it nice to see how they are doing?"

"I suppose." She said a little sulkily. "But don't go getting any thoughts about replacing me."

"As if I ever would."

"Do you have anything you need?" Interrupted another chirpy young voice, this one attached to the young chirpy face of one of the train attendants who must still be in his teens. Just because there was an AI at the helm didn't mean the train wasn't staffed – in fact there was a very high ratio of staff to passengers to add to the luxury and add a much needed personal touch.

"Yes thank you."

"Well if you are hungry we have a full lunch menu. Today's special is a delightful mushroom stew or we have a range of bar snacks if you would prefer."

"I'm fine for the moment." John turned back to the window, hoping the boy would leave him to his thoughts.

"It's wonderful isn't it – seeing all of this so close up! I grew up in a city and that's great and all but in this job I get to look at something so much better all day and -" realising he might have been gushing a much he stopped. "Well, my name's Robert, yell for me if you need anything." He said with a smile before moving to approach the next guest. The young man was bright and enthusiastic and charming in a cheeky sort of way that was very reminiscent of Alan and Gordon.

John settled back and wondered how on earth he was actually going to assess this AI. He might get a chance to look at the code later.

"Everything ok up there EOS?" John knew that he would have been informed if there was anything going on that needed his input, but the habit of knowing what was going on everywhere at all times was a hard one to break.

The hairs on the back of John's neck stood on end when all he got back was static. He was using one of the most advanced personal communicators outside of the military, linked to _the _most advanced communications satellite. Sure they were passing through some rugged geology but it took more than a couple of rocks to lose connection.

"EOS?" He took out his ear piece, reassured that the small red light on it's tip showed it was still working. So the problem was something else.

"Alright then fine folks" yelled a rough voice from one end of the carriage, and a shot boomed out into the small space. Ah. Maybe that then.

"I want everyone to stay exactly where they are, no sudden movements." The man who was speaking was heavy set, suit wearing and held a serious looking pistol in one hand. Behind him several more serious looking and armed men were ushering in staff and passengers from the other carriages, who were all looking stunned and scared.

Sure this was a kind of expensive trip, but surely not exclusive enough to be worth robbing – gathered together there were probably only about twenty five passengers and as a casual day trip no-one was dressed for a ball.

The weapons were an interesting choice as well – old fashioned gun powder powered bullet filled guns. Like most tech weapons had evolved drastically in the last fifty years – these days you were much more likely to see a pulse weapon or a taser than an actual gun. They didn't need any ammunition for a start, and it was much harder to kill someone accidently. Tastes of both the legal and illegal users of weapons had changed and John thought that guns had become a relic of the past: he had only ever seen an actual gun in the flesh once before.

"Everyone here? Good." the man strode to the other end of the carriage. "Now, this is what's going to happen. My associates here are going to keep everyone company while I go and have a chat with your 'driver'. We've got a dampener up so no-one is making any calls until I decide to, but the sooner I get what I want the sooner this is over. You, " the man gestured to the nearest staff member, "open this door." He banged on an access panel behind him.

"Wh... What? I mean... I don't... I don't know-" stuttered Robert, the one who had the misfortune of being in the hijackers eye line.

With a snarl the man grabbed onto Robert's collar, drawing him close. "I know the AI interface is in there and I know you all know the code to get in. So. Open. It." He raised his hand adjusting his grip on the gun. Perhaps he was going to use it as a cudgel instead of a projectile but either way it could do some serious damage.

If it was a choice between opening a door and risking your life, John knew the smart choice for Robert to make was to open the door. It was also a smart choice for him to keep out the way, not draw attention, wait for EOS to raise the alarm (as his over protective companion certainly would).

Sitting back was a choice he could make. He did usually watch from afar after all. But he wasn't afar, he was right here, watching a young man being threatened.

John stood. "Stop that, leave him alone." All eyes fell on him, in a way that wasn't exactly comfortable.

"Excuse me?" The hijacker turned.

"You heard." John swallowed at the glint in the man's eye, the hardness there.

"You think you are some sort of big man?"

"No, but if I were I wouldn't be threatening a kid." _Shutupshutupshutup _.

John didn't see the back hand coming but he sure as hell felt it. His head snapped round and he staggered, caught by two of the lesser hijackers. Head lolling and jaw numb he only knew that he was bleeding from the stain he was leaving on the carpet. His ear piece fell and rolled away somewhere.

"You going to sit back down?" The man hissed, getting right in his face.

"You going to get off this train?" John mumbled and instantly regretted the words when he was doubled over by a punch to the stomach. The two others had to actively hold him up now as the man punched again and again and again. John had no time to take a breath between one strike and the next.

"Drop him" he heard and the polished wooden floor rose up and smacked him in the face. John squirmed, gasping for air as best he could, curling in over his bruised ribs. Red hot, burning circles radiated through his chest that flared with every movement. He was exposed and helpless as vicious kicks landed on his head, his back, his legs, each drawing a harsh grunt. A sickening crack reverberated through John's whole body and thin lines of fire spread out from his now broken rib.

They must have been satisfied by whatever noise he made from that as the blows and kicks stopped. John lay shuddering on the carpet, trying not to breathe too deeply and uncurling slightly to ease his chest. His vision swam and head pounded. Blood was trickling down his face. He would get up in a minute. He wouldn't let these yobs win. He would stand up and stare them down but he just needed a second. To get his breathe back. To get his balance back.

"Now, will someone open the door, or do we have to give this gent another lesson." John heard, and to prove his point the man stomped down hard on his wrist: John let out a horse scream as the bones ground together.

From somewhere far away there was laughter. The last thing that John saw was someone fiddling with a keypad by the control room door, and then the world whited out.


	2. Chapter 2

"Scott, we may have a situation." Scott jerked his head up from where it was deep in one of One's circuits, trying to find the lose connection that was causing an intermittent flashing light on one of his flight panels.

"What's up EOS?" he asked, swinging into his seat.

"I can't get in touch with John."

Scott relaxed slightly "He's probably just having fun, or having a conversation with someone else." God knows that none of the exactly got out much, but John least of all and Scott was very pleased when he had heard John wanted to go and actually talk to people face-to-face.

"No, it's not that he's not talking to me, I can't reach him at all. His tracker has gone off line, I'm getting zero response from his comm. I'm still tracking the train which seems to be running to time but there are no civilian signals coming from it at all – not one phone call or message from the passengers."

"That is odd" Scott frowned. "Keep monitoring and keep trying John. I have to put a couple of circuits back together. When I'm done we'll reassess."

Five minutes later Kayo had joined him in Thunderbird One's cockpit and they were studying EOS' analysis.

"She's right." Kayo was saying. "It's not accidental that we can't get in contact with John or anyone else on that train."

"Do you think it's The Hood?"

"I don't think so - there isn't anything of value on it."

"The AI?" Scott suggested.

Kayo crossed her arms and shook her head. "Unlikely. From what I know it's a _good _AI but hardly military grade or anywhere close."

"No where close." EOS agreed somewhat smugly.

Scott peered closer at the train specs. "What's going on?"

* * *

John came to being dragged to his feet and bundled through the carriages. His back hurt, his chest hurt, his head hurt. His vision swam and lights flashed before his eyes. He tried to get his feet under him but they were moving too fast. Someone muttered a curse at him and shoved him down to the floor. He caught himself awkwardly on his knees trying not to put any weight at all on his wrist – that was probably broken as well by the throbbing that encompassed his entire arm.

Glancing around he found himself kneeling in one of the perspex bubble carriages, the one at the end of the train. It was one of the prime spots having uninterrupted views through two hundred and seventy degrees. Usually the only thing in here would be half a dozen comfortable chairs and a large cupboard holding a range of drinks, glasses and cutlery for the patrons.

Now there was something else. On a tripod was a camera. _Shit._

"Is it ready?" Said the hijacker who was standing behind him. A nod from the man behind the camera.

"Start recording." The sound of a clearing throat. "My name is Albert Henderson and this is a message for International Rescue. I am now in full control of this train and no-one is getting off. We will continue on this lovely little loop that has been built for us, taking in this magnificent scenery, until I get face to face with one of you. I want you here, on this train. I know you have the tech to do it so don't give me any excuses. We have hostages and as you can see - " The man snatched a handful of John's hair and wrenched it back, causing him to gasp. Whatever head wound he had reopened and fresh warm blood seeped into his hair. John was forced to kneel up to try and ease the painful tug on his scalp but to no avail, his head was just pulled awkwardly making balance difficult and breathing even more painful.

"-we are not afraid to use our hostages." Henderson pushed something to the side of John's head, small and cold and round. No, not round. It would be cylindrical. The barrel of the gun. John's insides froze and he instinctively tried to move away from the weapon but the harsh grip in his hair wouldn't allow it. Firing a bullet was so much less precise than an electric shock, the damage they did was so unpredictable. If Henderson had been using a taser John could expect a few minutes of discomfort but no lasting repercussion. This could kill him instantly. Or slowly. In that moment John knew how badly he had miscalculated: he was going to die on camera.

"I expect to see you in two hours."

Henderson released his hair and John collapsed. He squeezed his eyes shut trying to think. Trying to push out the pain and the shock and the fear _ohgodaguntohishead_ and think. This man wanted International rescue for some reason – to talk? There were other ways to talk, he could have just used the radio. What was all this about? Luckily Henderson didn't know that he had a member of International Rescue in his midst. If he did this whole thing would probably be over much quicker but perhaps not it a good way.

But now he had a name to work with and if he could listen out, find out a bit more information, find out something about the other men. He thought he had seen four in total. When he was back with the other hostages he would have a bit of cover to maybe hack into the train's systems – it seemed the hijackers had access to send their message. Maybe Robert had opened the door. That just meant John would have access soon too. He'd get a message out, help International Rescue when they came for him. Because they would be coming. There would be no doubt after they saw that message.

There was a crash from the corner, as Henderson threw out the contents of the crockery cupboard, shelves and all.

"That should do" He said striding back to John, pulling him up by the back of his shirt. "Can't let you back amongst the others, you have the look of a trouble maker."

"No, wait!" John struggled against the iron grip, but he hurt too much, was too off balance, there was too much gravity about, for him to be able to put up much a fight. He was flung head first into the now empty cupboard and hit the back with a thud and a yell of pain as his wrist knocked against something.

The doors was slammed shut behind him so when he turned round he was trapped in the dark. He could stand up straight but the space was less than an arm length wide and half that deep. John shouldered the door but it didn't do more than shudder – either there was a firm latch on it or there was something pushed up against to hold it closed. He thought he could hear laughter.

It wasn't completely dark: a thin slither of light crept in from all around the door but the gap wasn't large enough to see out. He shouldered the door again, thumped on it with his uninjured hand.

Claustrophobia was never a problem for John. Growing up in a small house with many siblings he had spent more than one afternoon in a hidey hole trying to get a pit of peace from the hubbub all around, and it had served him in good stead when it came to living in the overly large bubble that was Thunderbird Five. He had never felt trapped in small spaces, only safe.

This was different though. His breaths – shallow by necessity to avoid aggravating his broken rib – reverberated oddly in the confines of the cupboard. It was already getting warm, his body heat as effectively trapped as he was. The cage rattled slightly, sides creaking, as the train swept round a corner slightly too fast. This wasn't finding a moment of calm in a busy house, of the feeling of security in a multi-million dollar technological marvel. This was being locked in a cupboard on a hijacked train and there was a world of difference. He'd had a gun to his head. An actual real, could-push-a-bullet-through-your-skull gun. It must be just his imagination but he could still feel the cold imprint of the muzzle against his skin.

John slumped back, and angled himself into the corner. He slowly slid down until he was sitting, legs stretched as far as the would go. It wasn't far. He shifted his arm so his wrist was lying in his lap. John tried to push away the pain but each breath brought fire anew through his ribs and back and chest. Each heartbeat pounded loudly in his head – he touched his scalp lightly but jumped at the scalding flash that gave. The blood in his hair had grown sticky and the feel of it made him slightly nauseous. His wrist throbbed and fingers tingled: pins and needles stabbing and stabbing and stabbing...

There would be no information gathering for him. No working from the inside. He couldn't save anyone this time, not from in here, not even himself. It was all out of his hands now.


	3. Chapter 3

The glow of the holo transmission faded away and there was silence for a moment.

"EOS" said Scott slowly, still trying to process what he had just seen. "Find out everything you can about Albert Henderson. EOS?" He asked when she didn't reply.

"They've hurt him." EOS wasn't human, was far from it. Logic ruled her circuits and sometimes her priorities were completely alien and unpredictable. If Scott didn't know any better he would say that what he was hearing was pure fury from that innocent simulation of a voice. Weird as that concept was it was comforting that for this they were on the same page for it mirrored the rage that Scott was trying to keep a lid on.

They'd hurt him. His little brother. He was held hostage and bruised and threatened and beaten and bleeding and... Scott tamped that rage down a little further. From Kayo's taught posture she was doing the same.

"Just... find us that information please EOS, we need to come up with a plan."

"Searching." But Scott could well imagine a little red status light blinking all the more malevolently up on Thunderbird Five, and hoped that John had managed to instill some impulse control since their first meeting.

"What do you think Kayo?"

"I think you would usually suggest we leave this to the GDF, we aren't hostage negotiators." She raised an eyebrow.

"They asked for us specifically, even if John weren't down there we would have to get involved. Are you actually suggesting we stand back from this?" Scott said incredulous.

"Not at all, just surprised that you aren't. We need to take back control of the train, neutralise the threats and secure the hostages. Without anybody getting hurt."

"If we can reestablish connection with the train I'm sure EOS can stop it. That will make everyone a lot safer."

"Affirmative." She agreed. "Further analysis concludes that there is a strong yet localised signal dampener in place. Once that is turned off there will be nothing in that system that will be able to prevent me contacting John. Oh, and I will have full system access."

"Any guess as to where it is?" Kayo asked, narrowing eyes and enlarging the graphic of the train.

"It could work from anywhere but it's mobile power source is limited so at some point they will have to connect it to the main power at the control console. Here at the front." EOS highlighted the relevant area. "Hostages could be anywhere in the six cars. From comparison of promotional material it appears that the video message was recorded in rear carriage." A blinking dot appeared at the other end.

"Search complete. Albert Henderson." EOS displayed several pictures of the man, once from a newspaper, one looked like a driving license photo, one a still from the video. John was in that one too, blood in his hair, bruising across his face, the gun in Henderson's hand pressed against his temple... Scott bought his attention back to what EOS was saying.

"Albert Henderson ran a fairly successful fire safety company, installing sprinklers into schools, hospitals and other public buildings across multiple States. That was several years ago, I can't find any notable records of him since."

"So he's not a criminal of some sort? A robber or..."

"Not as far as I can find."

Scott looked at the man, the train schematics, the layout of the track and how it curved in and out and along a network of canyons. He tried not to look at that freeze frame of John's fear filled face knowing that if he focused for too long he would lose his concentration completely. "I think I have a plan. EOS contact the GDF and tell them we will need them to stay close but not to intervene until we give the word. This has to be our show if it's to work."

* * *

The plan was simple. Henderson wanted International Rescue so he would get International Rescue. Thunderbird One was nice and big and obvious and made plenty of noise as it approached the rear of the speeding train. Scott engaged the autopilot and was pleased to see that Henderson had come out into the viewing car to watch, though there was no sign of John. Just as well for this bit.

A moment of careful alignment, a swift signal to his sister and Scott fired the grapple line straight into - and through – the viewing car roof. Tough as it was it couldn't withstand the might of a Thunderbird and a large portion at the back and side of the carriage fell away. The whole train shook with the impact, which would have disguised Kayo's quiet landing at the other end quite nicely.

Scott attached his belt to the zipline and tested it with a firm tug. Henderson – who had been standing jaw dropped in amazement – was now making a dash for the only piece of furniture in the room. Scott frowned. Shit, was he going for another weapon? Wind whipped around him as Scott slid down the line, releasing it as soon as he landed to let his Bird fly free.

"Henderson!" he called, having to yell now that the carriage was no longer enclosed.

Henderson turned from the tall cupboard dragging –John! Blinking groggily, stumbling, confused, John looked like he was only upright due to the firm grim Henderson had on his arm. How long had he been locked up in that tiny space? It had been nearly an hour and a half since the threatening message had been broadcast to the world, surely now all that time? In the name of diplomacy Scott should be keeping a neutral expression but he didn't think he managed it. Henderson twisted John's left arm up behind his back causing him to let out a long hiss, and pressed the gun barrel against his head. Up close Scott could see the swelling to John's jaw, the split lip and the bleeding that came from a gash on his hair line.

"I'm here. You are Albert Henderson of Henderson's Protection Systems right? Let the hostages go." Scott bit out.

John's eyes focused properly for the first time – latching on to Scott's face. Scott didn't want to reveal how valuable a hostage John was but couldn't leave him without a word of comfort either.

"You alright sir?" Scott asked, trying to keep the heat out of his voice.

John gave a small nod "I'm ok" he lied gruffly. John was way too pale – even for him – to be 'ok'.

"I'm the one with the gun, you talk to me" said Henderson, jostling John.

"Ok, Ok" Scott held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Let's talk then. Why are we here?"

"Because you need to pay."

"For what?"

"You cost me everything! My fires safety systems were first rate. First rate! But no, you had to swoop in 'save the day' and ruined me in the process."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Really? Don't remember a little hospital fire do you? Go to that many?"

Hang on, a hospital fire, two years ago... yes that stirred some memories. It had been a particularly bad one and there had been some sort of uproar afterwards about safety standards.

"No, I do remember that. We barely got everyone out in time."

"It would have been fine."

"People would have died!"

"No! It would have been fine. But the fact that you even bothered to show up made people scared. And you and your fine machines made everybody think that there was some sort of problem with my systems. You think I could get another government contract after that?"

"There was a problem! When we entered that hospital none of the sprinklers were on, no suppressant foam, nothing."

"Lies!" Henderson roared. John paled more, though from the twist of his arm or cock of the pistols' safety coming off was difficult to tell. "They treated me like an outcast after that, like I was to blame. Like some sort of criminal."

Scott didn't want to say it, but he was thinking _maybe it was your fault Maybe you are a criminal._

"And what now?" He asked instead. "Now that I'm here."

"Maybe I'm going to destroy your reputation like you destroyed mine just by turning up." Henderson said, but honestly Scott had the feeling that he _didn't _have a plan from this point. He was angry that much was clear, and wanted someone to blame for his own mistakes. "Maybe I'll do something and you will get the blame." He adjusted his grip on John's arm who let out a low groan in response, this time turning slightly green.

Scott tried a different tack. "Maybe we can help you out then." Anything to keep him talking, give Kayo time to work her magic. "Maybe I can help you catch a break."

Henderson grinned. "Catch something? You a cop now? Ha, yeah, that fits you, so high and mighty. Catch me if you like. Or catch this."

With a sure firm movement Henderson gave John a shove in the small of his back, towards the open edge of the damaged carriage. John, shocked, scrabbled to catch hold of something but missed and disappeared.

Henderson thought Scott was going to have to choose: save a hostage of catch a hijacker. That showed a fundamental misunderstanding of International Rescue's purpose - there was no choice at all between saving a life and catching a criminal. And when that life belonged to his brother – Scott didn't even have to think about it.

He ran – just a few short paces - and jumped after John, reaching out a grasping hand. At this point the train was in a cutting about fifty foot above the floor of a canyon. It was very high if you were falling – a deadly height. But not very high if you were trying to catch up to someone before hitting the uprushing ground.

There wasn't a lot of time for thought but luckily Scott didn't need it. His training and instincts kicked in as he fired his jetpack in short bursts that let him grab the back of John's shirt despite his wild pinwheeling. John grabbed back in return and Scott fired a longer burst that slowed their decent just enough to make a somewhat bumpy landing, throwing up a cloud of dust from their boots jostling the ground. It had taken just a matter of seconds to go from speeding train to solid ground: a whirlwind of change even for Scott who was used to swift dives.

"You ok John? John?" Scott steadied him with a hand on the shoulder, while John clutched tightly to Scott's sash.

John didn't answer, instead turning to look at the train speeding away. "You should. Go after. Him." He suggested.

"Nah, don't think so. Kayo can deal with it. Are you ok?"

"Fine. I'm fine. I just - " Unable to finish as his legs gave out, John went down in a heap, pulling Scott with him – for all of his suggestion that Scott zoom off after Henderson he hadn't loosened his deathly grip – so Scott found himself kneeling next to his little brother who was breathing fast and trembling slightly.

With a gentle hand Scott took hold of John's chin, and turned it so that they were eye to eye. Studying the bruising on John's cheek, the swelling of his eye, the split lip, and bloody scalp Scott winced, pushing down some coarse language.

"Oh John," he said softly. John pushed his head into Scott's shoulder. "Can you take tell me where it hurt most?"

John tried, Scott could see that, but was struggling – quivering too much to get out a coherent sentence.

With a sigh Scott cupped his hand gently around the back of John's neck for a moment, before pulling him in for a hug. Despite being as careful as possible John still let out a small groan, but didn't pull away. Instead he shuffled slightly so they were kneeling together, each with their chin resting on the other's shoulder.

Scott's radio clicked in "This is Kayo. I have subdued all the hijackers apart from Henderson, turned off the dampener and EOS is in control – she's bringing the train to a stop."

"Last I saw Henderson was at the back." Scott replied, keeping his tone calm for John's sake.

"Last you saw? Where are you now?"

"I'm with John, several miles behind you. Don't worry about us right now we just need a minute. Find Henderson if you can: he's still armed."

"FAB."

"EOS, can you get any reading on John please." Scott knew she would be hovering somehow anyway so it was best to put her to use. She quickly accessed the scanning equipment hanging from Scott's belt and the couple of bio sensors that would be about John's person.

"Inconclusive. I do not have enough data." Damn.

"You're ok now" Scott soothed. "I got you."

"Shit." John's whispered breaths still coming fast. Too fast. "_Shit _Scott. He pushed me off the damn train."

"Yeah. Yeah, he did. That happened."

"And I thought he was going to shoot me."

"I know." And didn't that just rip Scott's insides up, because he had thought the same thing. Scott could feel the rapid pulse through John's neck that he stroked lightly, hoping to calm him down.

"That was... I've been scared before Scott, who of us hasn't? But that was different. That was..."

"Yeah, I know. Natural disasters are a bit different from what happened up there today." Some things they trained for, but this... Nothing had even come close to preparing them for this. Knowing how to survive an avalanche, or how to safely sure up a crumbling cave or navigate an asteroid belt was not the same as talking down a gun wielding maniac. Which Scott didn't do too good a job of, now he came to think of it. "So it's ok if you need a minute."

It took a long time for John to come down off that adrenaline spike, sitting on the rocky, dusty ground. Scott's back cricked and foot went dead, but he sure as hell wasn't going to be the first to move. John's pulse eventually slowed to something a little less heart attack inducing and his constant trembling to the occasional shudder, still hitched. If the shoulder of Scott's uniform was a little damp he certainly wasn't going to say anything. Honestly, he had an adrenaline spike to come down off himself.

"I've got him." Kayo reported into their silence. "He tried to hide in a cave. I've got a GDF medical team heading your way. EOS recommended it."

"Kayo got him." Scott repeated for John's benefit.

John pulled away slightly, loosening his white knuckled grip that linked them together so they could see eye to eye again. "Never doubted her." He smiled weakly.

"Med evac is on the way as well."

"Not sure that's necessary."

"Oh I think it is." Scott said with an eyeroll.

"I'm fine, stop worrying."

"Like that's going to happen with blood all down your face."

If the medical team aboard the hover vehicle thought it was odd that the rescuer and rescue were sat so close together they didn't mention it as the crew of two took John's blood pressure, shone a light in his eyes and all the other first stage triage actions.

Scott let himself be pulled away by local law enforcement for a quick debrief to give John some semblance of privacy: it wasn't like EOS wasn't listening in anyway.

He was called over again by one of the paramedics. "Excuse me, Mr International Rescue Sir? Our patient here thinks he's not going to hospital, that he's going home. I'm not sure how he thinks he's going to get there but I was hoping you might be able to talk him into getting proper medical treatment." The look on his face was the epitome of why-do-I get-all-the-awkward-ones-who-say-they-are-fine-when-that's-a-bald-faced-lie.

"Maybe nice Mr International Rescue would give me a lift home." John suggested with a stubborn glint to his eye one eye that wasn't bruised, blood shot and swelling.

Scott crossed is arms, having none of it. _Welcome to my world Mr Paramedic. I have to deal with these idiots twenty four seven. _"I can give you a lift alright, but I will also be taking you to the nearest hospital. And I will not be as polite as these gents are being so why don't you let them do their job. Don't make me kick your ass." Scott had spent a lifetime persuading younger siblings to do things they _thought _they didn't want to do. John was never going to win this one.

Indeed John gave in with a sigh, a muttered "I've had enough kicking for one day" that made Scott feel instantly guilty, but allowed himself to be maneuvered onto a stretcher, neck brace as a precaution and carried into the med craft.


	4. Chapter 4

Scott took a quick trip home, changed into civvies and took a more conventional – but still surprisingly fast – flight to the hospital John had been whisked to. EOS was monitoring the mission that held up Gordon, Virgil and Alan, and Kayo was delving more into Henderson. So Scott was on visiting duty.

It took just a little Tracy charm to get him past the receptionist and loitering outside John's room, listening to the end of an interview by the same law enforcement who had spoken to him. Brain's image scramblers would ensure he wasn't recognised so Scott merely waited politely until they were finished before slipping into the room.

John, hooked up to monitors and iv's, cracked an eye open as Scott reached for the file at the bottom of the bed. His chest was bound with bandages as was his head and his left arm was cushioned carefully at his side.

"You could just ask." John said a little hoarsely.

"Would you be honest with me?" Scott returned, flicking through the pages. John was a great one for hiding injuries and down playing illness. Scott was glad that they had EOS to tattle on him now when John pushed himself too far. It had only been a few hours but the staff had not hesitated in carrying out a huge battery of tests: x-rays, bloodworks, CT scan, ultrasound.

Scott sat, taking in what he was reading. "Extensive bruising on torso and to face. Possible internal bruising. Mild concussion. _Three _broken ribs and one broken wrist. Shit John, if you'd've said I would have bought you straight here, no waiting." Scott ran a hand through his hair and flipped the file closed.

"To be fair, I didn't know about two of the ribs." John protested from where he was cushioned "And look on the bright side I'm not going to need any surgery. Just a cast for the wrist."

"That's not making me feel any better." Scott took a deep breath, forcing himself to look John in the eye. "I'm sorry I didn't get to you sooner."

"It's not your fault Scott. I jumped in before I really thought about it, before I had assessed the situation properly."

"That's not like you."

John gave a one shouldered shrug, being cautious not to move his injured hand. "I know, but the kid reminded me of Alan. He was going to hit him and... well, I just thought 'what would I want if Al were in that position'. I'd want someone to step up for him, like you used to do for me when I got followed home from school. That didn't leave me much choice really."

"No, I suppose it didn't." Scott remembered those days – walking back along the bridal paths in to town to find where younger siblings had gotten to and why they weren't at the house doing their homework already. There had been more than one occasion that Scott had stepped between a body and a fist, righteous fury his only weapon. He hadn't always won those fights either.

"Kayo find anything interesting yet?" John asked.

"The other men were all employees of Henderson who lost their jobs and have spent their time looking for someone to blame rather than find new work. And that wasn't the first time that Henderson had been pulled up on taking short cuts that made his safety systems useless. He was always going to lose his contracts, it was just lucky that no-one died in the process."

"I don't think he's ever going to see it like that." John's words were slowing and he was wincing with each word.

"You feeling ok? Should I get a doctor" Scott leant forward, concerned.

"Nah, they can't give me too much cos they want to watch for the concussion."

"Ah." That would indeed suck, to have someone come in and take vitals every hour for the next twelve, to wake you up just as you were starting to drift off to sleep. To not be able to take sufficient pain medication for the other injuries because otherwise the medical staff couldn't differentiate between the safe sort of non-responsiveness from the dangerous kind. They had all been there.

Scott sat back in the chair, trying to estimate how long John would be off duty. A week of bed rest probably. Couple of weeks light duty before he would be allowed back upon Five. He should have some sort of counselling as well, being in a prolonged hostage situation was far from their usual stresses. It was so far outside their wheel house that -

"I shouldn't have got involved." Scott finished his thought out loud.

"Hmmmmmm?"

"I should have left it to the professionals – the GDF has hostage negotiators, they could have handled it. But no, I had to go crashing in and managed to get you thrown off a train for my efforts."

"No-one else got hurt though." John reminded him.

"That's not the point." Scott shook his head. "I could have made things so much worse. What if I'd said the wrong thing or -"

"You didn't." John raised an eyebrow that pulled on the stitches to his head. "He was only going to talk to someone in an IR uniform and anyway he just wanted to shout. Like the idiots that yell for a manager the second they hear something they don't like from a shop assistant."

"Huh." Scott snorted at the analogy.

"I'm glad you were there." John whispered, a haunted look in his eye, "I don't trust anyone to save my ass more than my big brother. You made the right choice."

Their moment was interrupted by the entrance of a doctor and a nurse, a trayful of instruments and an arm cast.

"OK then Mr Tracy." The doctor said in a jolly up beat tone that was surely meant to inspire positivity. "Let's get this wrist set shall we. You - " she nodded at Scott "can wait outside if you like."

"I'll stay."

"You sure? This isn't going to be pleasant being as we can't give John the pain relief the injury would usually warrant."

Scott looked at John's tired face, still too pale, jaw already clenching and looking a little sick at the thought of what was to come. He gripped John's good hand, drawing his attention, and spoke directly to his brother.

"If you want me here, I'm here. It's up to you."

John gave a small nod, gripping back.

* * *

What followed was one of the most unpleasant twenty minutes of John's life. Since his arrival at hospital most of his pains had receded to a dull ache because he wasn't actually moving at all. Even his ribs had calmed down but perhaps he was just too exhausted to notice them.

The setting of his wrist though... The doctor and nurse were being as gentle as possible, but there was no good way to manipulate a broken bone. It felt like his insides were being skewered by a red hot poker, shockwaves racing from his shoulder to his finger-tips. Sweat poured off him. He got cramp in his jaw from clenching it too hard. Scott's hand would surely bare the imprint of his finger nails for days to come, but he never let John see that he was in the slightest bit of discomfort, just whispering encouragement throughout the whole tortuous procedure.

Scott only left his side when it was over when John insisted he speak to the doctors and find out how soon he could go home. Now the hard bit had been done he could convalesce in any bed in the world, and John would much rather do it in his own. Maybe he could persuade someone at home to give him some stronger pain killers too: whatever he had from here just wasn't touching it. John closed his eyes as another wave hit him.

Getting dressed was going to suck – one armed and with broken ribs – so it was just as well they lived in a tropical climate. He wouldn't need layers. Eating was going to suck – hopefully his swollen jaw would go down soon but he wouldn't be able to cut his own food for a while. Sleeping was going to suck – John was a front sleeper which would a hard no-go for now.

"Everything is going to suck." He muttered.

"I'm sorry." The voice surprised him and John's eyes flew open to see an unexpected visitor. Robert, still in his uniform that was only a little crinkled, hovered nervously at the doorway a big bunch of flowers in hand.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" John gestured him in.

"Errrr, well I wanted to say I'm sorry." he waved the flowers a little, a couple of petals falling to the floor.

"For what?"

"For this." More petals fell. "Because if it wasn't for me. If he hadn't... I mean if I hadn't... I mean..."

John suppressed a smile at his earnest concern. Yeah, he was exactly like Alan.

"This wasn't your fault. You aren't responsible for any actions but your own." It was that simple – do the best you can and don't take on too much. That had been a hard lesson to learn when you were listening to desperate please from across the globe but living by anything less was a swift course to a breakdown from the pressure. He could attest to that.

"Then. I suppose. Just thank you then." Robert smiled and thrust the flowers forward, realised that it would be a bit impractical for John to take them so laid them on the bed. "They're kind of traditional. Do you want any company?"

Scott might be gone for a while and anyway they would only talk shop. The pulsing from his arm was growing and echoing ache blooming from his chest. He knew he wouldn't be allowed any decent sleep for a few hours yet so company might be just the thing.

"Sure." Robert sat.

"Well, you didn't exactly have a chance to fulling experience all the Grand Canyon Super Train had to offer! Did you know when the company was founded over twenty years ago the journey was originally going to be done by hot air balloon? That was clearly impractical so … "

John tried to relax as Robert's words washed over him. Whenever one of his brothers was injured he used them as a helpless sounding board for his own passions so there was a poetic sort of justice that he was now being victim to the soothing sounds of someone else's. It didn't nothing to ease the burning throbbing pain but the distraction was just enough for John's eyes to slide closed at the first bit of peace in a very long day.

* * *

_**Thank you all for reading - I hope you enjoyed it!**_

_**You think I was going easy on him? I thought I was being quite mean, what with the cupboard and arm and everything. Oh dear. i must try harder next time.**_

_**In fact I have a Bad Things Happen Bingo going on at the moment over on tumblr: find me such-a-random-rambler and let me know if there is anything you would like to see.**_


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